Remains by J. Warren

Author:J. Warren [Warren, J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, gay, glbt, horror, mystery, Suspense, Thriller
ISBN: 9781590216064
Google: ULTSAQAACAAJ
Amazon: B0733MTB7T
Publisher: Lethe Press
Published: 2017-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

On the way home, I decided something. I couldn’t have told anyone what it was, but something seemed more firm in my head. Because of that, I found myself in the parking lot of the YMCA. Being day after thanksgiving, it was closed. I got out, and walked to the front doors. Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peered in.

Nothing had changed. The front desk was still cluttered, the hallway was still clean enough to count the light bulbs in the reflections. Most of the time, when a building is empty, it seems hollow. There was still—something—here, though.

I jumped halfway out of my skin when someone came around the corner and walked straight to the doors. I kept thinking ‘run’, but I was frozen in place. She was tall and thick through the middle. I couldn’t see much more about her through the darkness, but she came straight at the door. A large ring of keys hung from a cord around her neck. She searched through them for a second, found the right one, then opened the door.

“Can I help you, sir?” Her accent was thick with somewhere else.

“I’m—I used to work here—when I was a kid. I’m back for a visit. I was just—,” I said. Her facial expression never moved.

“Oh. Well, we’re closed. You could come back tomorrow, though. Everyone’ll be back, then.”

“Oh,” I said, and my face must’ve fallen a bit. I hadn’t expected to be able to go inside in the first place, but when she appeared, I had hoped. She looked down, sniffed, then looked back up.

“I was just—I was just about to finish up with the books and things, though. If you—I mean if you’re—when are you leaving town?” she asked.

“Probably tomorrow,” I said. I didn’t know, but it seemed that things were heading that way.

“Oh,” she said, “what did you say your name was?” she asked.

I hadn’t said, “Michael Kendall. I worked here teaching swimming and as a part time custodian a while back. I worked for Mr. Roger.”

“Hell,” she said, her features softening, “Roger Parker?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Ol’ Roger,” she said, smiling to herself, “well, then—as long as you’re not some axe murderer or something,” she grinned a bit, but her eyes held a question, “you could come in for a bit.”

I smiled, “Thanks. I’m no axe murderer. Or, anyway, I’d be a lousy one,” I said as she opened the door a bit wider so I could get in.

“Why’s that?” she asked. I stepped past her, and stopped: everything looked so tiny. I remembered this front room as huge, but the chairs looked squashed together, now.

“No axe,” I said. She closed the door and locked it again.

“I’ll be back here,” she said, moving back down the hallway. I followed after her, still looking at the front room. It had seemed like some huge cave when I was young; it seemed like a tiny waiting room, now. She went down a side hallway to the main offices. I remembered having to run messages for Mr.

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